Touché
by Lauryn Vi
Summary: Enter Lady Alanna of Trebond: freshly out of the convent, and struggling against her hunt for the 'gentlemanly suitors' of court. [Completed]
1. T ::Disclaimer::

_Touché: __touched by opponent's rapier in fencing._

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tamora Pierce's characters. The plot and various scenes were inspired and based upon SnowTigressJO and Shiro's ideas.

As for the story itself – it is one of my experiments writing sarcasm and humour through first person narrative. There are no 'roller coaster' conflicts or obstacles – but simply Alanna battling against her mind, struggling against her emotions. I have written too many angst stories, that this time, I just want you to relax and enjoy while reading. Hopefully, I've achieved my aim, hm?

To note: Alanna's personality may be _slightly_ out of character. After all, I can't reproduce a person's inner thoughts, can I?

-----

Now, without further ado, I present… chapter one. :)


	2. o

"Will you _please_ hold still for another moment, Lady Alanna?"

The petite, hair-greying woman beside me yanks at a lock of my hair, twisting it up into a tight knot and pinning it with a dark clip.

Then another.

And another.

-----

Grief – that's what the Midwinter Solstice was.

_Was_? What am I thinking? Today_ is_ the Day of the Solstice. Oh Goddess – don't let my syntax give up on me now. Not when I'm about to arrive in the oh-so-special capital city of Tortall in half an hour, and be ready to present myself as yet another y-chromosome hunting female of court.

Gods, I love my life.

Ah-ha! After a bit of reflection, I have come to the conclusion of why Midwinter has become a past tense. I just SO desperately want this day to end, that in my subconscious, December 21st has already passed.

I wish it were only so!

Grr… Don't get me wrong – I love this woman – or rather, I _would_ love her if she didn't have the slight misfortune of being my nurse. That's right – NURSE.

I can't believe this. Truly, for the life of me, I _cannot _comprehend this situation. I'm a grown woman – all of _sixteen_ years old. I've been held in prison – wait; did I just say that out loud? Cough What I _meant_ to say is, I've been detained at the City of the Gods convent for 5 years, learning to be a lady, and father STILL thinks it appropriate for me to have a nurse!

Talk about the insinuating insult towards my maturity – or in his mind, lack thereof.

But indeed, she is most certainly _not_ the reason I'm frustrated. In fact, compared to what is in store for me for the rest of today, I consider this a positive breeze.

-----

Ouch! Geez woman, you almost pulled the hair right out of my scalp! I may not be particularly _fond_ of red hair – heck, so _fond_ is an overstatement, and I admit, I complain about my hair every time I look in a mirror, but still! As compared to no hair? Give me the former choice any day.

I try to lean back against the back of the carriage, only to have my nurse jerk me back upright.

"Ahh!!" I bit back a yelp of louder volume (I assure you I can get quite loud.) as I imagine myself with half as much hair as I started with. Now is my cue to cringe… I mean, when one is as horridly ugly as I am to begin with – and believe me, words fail to describe my so-called feminine features – you usually hope it doesn't get much worse.

"Lady Alanna! Be patient. Do hold that position for a bit. I'm almost done." She swings around me, pining up the last of my copper locks. Being so occupied, my perfected frown and accompanying growl were wasted on her.

-----

Right, I recognize the fact that I'm supposed to be grateful to be out of that – that convent. But as thankful as I am, at the moment, life just really, really, really sucks. I mean, REALLY.

I know, I know – you must think I'm a hugely spoiled brat, but I'm not. Really. (Yeah right, like anyone out of that nightmare of a place can possibly be _spoiled_.) I take what life gives me…Heh, to the least; I'm usually quite friendly - especially when things go my way.

In fact, I think I've been damn agreeable about my imprisonment for the past 5 years. As much as I've longed to throw my box of cosmetics at the First Daughter – I've never done that. All right, so I _could_ have made their lives easier around me – and I _will _admit that sneaking out at 2 in the morning every week to visit wandering Shangs _was_ a bit much, but really, I could have done much worse.

My mind works in astonishing ways when it comes to thinking of clever pranks. Anything to make those Daughters suffer the way I did.

Speaking of which, I picked up a hell of a lot of things I don't need there – not to mention things I never wanted to learn.

Hated. Loathed.

All right, I will admit this: the Daughters were kind enough to teach me the magic of my Gift. (Of course, that was mostly my own doing, if I say so myself. Existence there was just so unpleasantly bland that I just _had_ to reconcile to my Gift.)

See? I never fail to give praise when it's due. Its just life so often does just the opposite of what you plan.

That 'so often' being NOW, of course. In fact, my Life at the moment is simply a walking – err, _riding_ nightmare – each creak of the wheel bringing me closer to my doom.

Literally. When I say 'doom', I mean 'the end of my life'.

Yeah, it's just that bad. Believe me – I don't exaggerate. Well… I don't think I do…

-----

Okay, okay. I do tend to stretch the truth a _bit_ (that's all the confession you're going to get. So there!), but _this _time, I swear I'm not embellishing the absolutely seriousness of the situation.

In fact, I can prove it to you – I have this lovely souvenir of a bump on my forehead to show for my unsympathetic day. Why? Goddess, the stupid crowing of the rooster scared the living daylights out of me. After 5 years of gentle knocking on my door, I definitely am NOT used such raucous noises at such unearthly hours! (Score! They say loud noises interfere with a lady's complexion. Ha! _What_ complexion?! Still, that is the only – and I repeat, ONLY thing I will miss about the convent.)

Anyhow, I was shocked awake from my sweet dreams (of which I can remember nothing of now) by a bone-jarring encounter my derriere had with the floor. Not to mention I smacked my head against the deadly edge of my nightstand.

After 16 years, I finally understand the true – and all too literal – meaning of waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

And that was only the morning! 7 o'clock in the morning, to be exact!

-----

The wheels have stopped.

No – I'm NOT going to run, I'm NOT even _thinking_ of such a cowardly action.

All right – fine – maybe for just a second (a teeny, weeny moment). A minute possibly…

Who am I kidding? The freaking thought has been in my head every since I left the convent. To hightail out – or not to hightail out? That is the question.

See, the only problem being to it will take me _months_ to leave Tortall without a horse – and with all Trebond's men, they'll have me back in no time. Zip. Nada. (Mmh – my brainchild is mage extraordinaire in the area of mathematics.)

Of course, _if _I had gotten caught, there would also be that tiny problem of my father's displeasure. In fact, I'm 100% certain 'sunlight' would never enter my vocabulary again.

Yes, yes – excuses galore. I prefer to call it 'detailed analysis'. Out of everything my pathetic nightmare of a life might be, I'll have you know that I am most certainly _not _stupid.

So I've definitely ruled out plan A.

Pity – that plan was starting to grow on me.

From everything concerned, it's definitely time to move on to plan B. Ahh… the saving grace of good ol' plan B. Which happens to be…

Damn it.

It conveniently slipped my mind that I don't have a plan B at the moment. (Now I remember – with all the hustling and bustling, when was I supposed to have time to think of a plan anything? – 'Anything' referring to anything plausible, of course. I'll let you know that jumping out the carriage window does not count, thank you very much.)

"Lady Alanna?" The footman opens to door for me, motioning for me to step down – ladylike, of course.

-----

Gods above, now I know what it feels like to be led to execution. THIS. In fact, if I am right on all accounts, this is _worse_ than any torture chamber imaginable.

Hating every second of it already, I lift up my skirts and step out of the carriage. Score again! I did not fall, or trip, or do anything to make me seem like the clumsy beast I really am. Yet.

Now this is strange. 5 years at the convent, and I still go away unable to walk in skirts. Oh this is great. Just great. What a waste of time. When will these people _learn_ that you _cannot_ reform somebody like me?

Especially with my two left feet.

Correction: Two left feet when it comes to skirts. When it has anything to do with lady-like manners. Kicking and punching I can do with skill. Handling a sword – all right, not AS much fluency, but still passable.

Wearing a skirt? Totally OUT of the question.

And you should see me during dance lessons! I shudder to even think of it.

Wait. Oh no… Gods have mercy…

-----

Why didn't I think of this before?

Alanna, I tell myself, you are in _court_. And HOW does a young, solitary, male-seeking (yeah right! Male seeking my derriere!) female possibly exert herself the first week at court?

Balls! And with such a situation comes dancing. Ball – dancing – ball – dancing. They go hand in hand. All right now, out of all things I will possibly sacrifice for my father's oh-so-high expectations for me, _this_ I refuse to go to. I absolutely will _not_ make a fool of myself in front of Their Royal Majesties of Tortall by going to this… ball.

-----

The time has definitely come for drastic action.

I'll hide! Lock myself up in the deepest, darkest broom closet they have in this – castle, but I WILL NOT – and no amount of persuasion will suffice, _nurse_ – I repeat, WILL NOT, go to any 7-hour long social function, where _dancing_ crosses my lips.

I'll die before I commit such a sin.

-----

Whoa.

Hold that thought right there. I did _not_ just say that, did it? Did I – the utterly indifferent and composed Alanna of Trebond – just say, 'I'll die before I commit such a sin?'

Oh crap. I did.

When – and for the Goddess, WHY – have I become such a drama queen? I sound – pathetic… I sound… like a _lady_. (That is _not_ to say I'm not female. Got it? I'm not a _lady_. There is a _world_ of difference.)

Note to self: Definitely cut back on the dramatic whining. From all I have gathered in my wise and experienced past, whining does not get you what you want. Don't listen to whatever else they might tell you. Trust me on this one – I've tried.

-----

Of course, I'm never done the all-so-popular 'feminist-fatale' approach. Drop the handkerchief (or even better, to quote the First Daughter, 'toss the fan you were fluttering high into the air') – let out a loooong wail, and bring the courtiers and handsome knight running to your rescue.

The tears? They're fake. (Added for all purposes as a species of feminine decoration.)

That's what the Daughters taught us at the convent. I can't believe it. My father actually _pays_ for people to teach ME how to pick up 'gentlemanly suitors'. HA!! Gentlemanly suitors! There's nothing gentle, or suiting about them. Come to think of it, there's probably nothing manly about them, either.

In fact, THEY are the reason MY life is in complete and utter ruins. THEY are why I'M currently standing HERE, instead of welding a sword, HERE, in front of this… this...

Palace.

This gorgeous, dazzling, breath-taking, white-marbled, mammoth of a palace.

-----

A/N: Hmm – writing in first person definitely takes longer than I had thought. Lolz. How did I do? ][Nervous][ Comments and reviews much appreciated and desired! :)


	3. u

Many thanks to those that reviewed this story. :) ][Hugs][

Oceanspike: Lolz. Thank you – I'm glad you think it's funny. You probably find it confusing because of the tangents that keep branching off from Alanna's thoughts, neh? Well, the plotline is quite simple and straightforward, as my aim for this story is not plot, but rather style of writing. Basically, Alanna has 'graduated', shall we say, from the convent – where I may add, she has resented every second she had spent there. To be of nobility rank, Alanna is being sent to court (the palace of Corus) to 'find a husband'. C'est tout. Simple, neh?

Miamouse: Haha. Truth be told, this is the first time I've fully indulged in writing through first person. Lolz. Admit it hun, how often is it we speak negative thoughts compared to how often we think them? I just tried to take Alanna's 'inner thoughts', and transfer them onto paper. In reality, she's just another girl as normal as you or I. Lolz. As for 'attention to detail' – I'm glad you brought that up, because I made her surroundings purposely ambiguous. Why? Because I'm writing through first person, I only write exactly what Alanna thinks. For example, I can proceed to describe the insides of the carriage, and the surrounding city of Corus – but that would defeat the purpose. No casual observer would pay that much attention to detail. :)

Sportzgurl: Thanks. :) If you are still confused, I suggest you read that little excerpt I left for Oceanspike. Shall you have any further question, please feel free to let me know through the comments board, or email me as jazzz125hotmail.com.

S: Haha. When I warned you of first person, I meant it literally – hard-core first person. Any thought that pops into Alanna's mind you will find translated on paper. :P Haha. And yes, she's definitely going to be interacting with people – especially a certain blue-eyed, black-haired someone. That's where the 'fun' comes in. Lolz.

Pinky: As I have been saying, because this is through the first person narrative, it has to have a lot of tangents and rambling. I know that I never stay focused on one subject all the time, if I'm just left alone to my thoughts – and I suspect Alanna's mind works the same way. :P

Xaralai: Thank you for your encouraging compliments. :) To be honest, this really is not my writing style. Lolz. I'm more of an angst writer determined to break free of her usual writing style and try something new. I'm glad you liked it, though.

Clueless: Your wish is my command. LOLZ.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

For the love of the Gods!! For the nerve of Their Royal Majesties!!! Despite over a _month_ of advance warning of my arrival, they _still _did not have a room prepared for me. In fact, they didn't have _any_ available rooms at all!!

Talk about a warm welcome!

"It seems the right season for all you young women to be flocking to our courts. After all, the Prince does not get younger waiting." Then the King WINKS at me.

Can you _believe_ the nerve of him?! What does he think we are? Sheep?! Goats?? Flocks indeed!

AND he is giving ME blatant hints about the personal love life of the 'Oh, I'm-So-Special-Because-Everybody-Bows-Down-To-Me Crown Prince of Tortall!

Well, I'll let that eligible _Prince_ of Conte know that one female here won't be kissing his _charming_ derriere.

-----

Definitely need a new plan to deal with this light. Although knowing my plans…pfff… let's just say my so-called _plans_ have nasty habits of turning against me every time I formulate them. I'll be lucky to make it out alive and unscathed. (And being humiliated _definitely_ counts as 'scathed'.) – I must be cursed or something, you know. Nothing ever goes as I plan them – if I say 'yes', the result will most definitely be a 'no'. It's as contrary as black and white!

Why, oh why, is life so unfair?

I don't see this problem happening to anyone else! EVERYONE I've ever read about _always_ manages to extract themselves in tight corners. But oh no, it just so happens that MY plans never work that way!

Argh, it's said that abstract objects cannot be biased – well what the heck to do you call this?! Obvious, blatant, BIAS. Against me.

And to make matters worse, until one female decides they've had enough of mooning over our country's _finest_ men, I doubt I'd be getting a decent ROOM anytime soon.

Meanwhile, guess where I'm installed? His Highness the Prince of Conte's study!! (Yes, there _is_ a bed. And just to keep records straight, I've been told His Highness never sleeps – and never has slept – there...) Can you believe me luck??

Or, rather – my lack thereof?

-----

So anyways, I'm sitting here, on the thick, soft – ohhh, this _was_ nice – couch, fuming at my so-called _luck_. No room, no personal treatment, and dancing 'part-ays' lined up for the rest of the week!

Aw, come on – you can't possibly blame me for being whiny about this. All in all, it's one lose-lose situation. I can't possibly win.

---

You know, for a place as large as this, it hasn't taken me very long wear out any inch of respect I had for it. Of course, I was only infatuated with the _structure_, not whatever and whomever the structure _held,_ per se.

There is only ONE person I really wish to see. ONE.

And ironically, I've spent the past 5 years cursing him for not agreeing with my plan. My ingenious, and oh-so-brilliant plan that could have gotten HIM out of knighthood training, and ME out of the convent.

Damn my brother and his stubbornness…

A knock sounds at the door. I yank it open with such force the person on the other side loses his balance and falls into me, grabbing my neck to keep from tumbling over. Argh!! I've never met such a klutz!

-----

I become aware of my face being pressed against a muscular chest (as I'm sure _any_ observer would notice – it's not that I'm impressed or anything, right?), clothed in a silky garment of royal blue.

A scent of spicy cologne and something distinctly different altogether reach my nose. I look up – and see snatches of bright blue. So much intense blue in such close proximity...I feel like I'm drowning. His arms are still wrapped around my neck…

A moment passes.

Then two.

Dear Goddess!! I'm standing in the Prince's study, the first day at court, and I'm already in the arms of some court stranger!!

But those eyes… What shade of blue ARE they, exactly? It is totally unfair for any species of the human race to possess such magnetic eyes. And by magnetic, I'm really not joking… Magnetic as in mesmerizing – thoroughly seductive…

-----

-Cringe- What am I THINKING?!

Lord, it's not my fault! What is wrong with this man? He knocks on the door, and ends up FALLING into me. ME!!! What does he think I am?!! And now he's staring at me like he's never seen an individual of the female population!!

"Do you have any common courtesy? Any noble civility?!" Using a few of those Shang tricks I had picked up over the years, I kicked him in the stomach.

Hard.

I swear, I only intended to distance myself away from this source of disturbing masculinity. (I mean, that's not a crime, is it? Any girl has the right to defend herself in the face of an unwanted advancer…)

But like most of my other good intentions – it seemed to fall through.

Unfortunately, he was taller than I expected. Much taller. My foot ended up connecting solidly with his – well…erm…

Let's just say I _did_ hit _something_…

The more… _tender_ part of his body.

-----

At least it had the desired effect. He fell back – away from ME, which was all that mattered – with a grunt of pain.

And standing right behind him, now revealed due to my little 'accident', was my reflection. My very own.

Copper hair – shortly cropped, purple eyes widened with amused surprise… I've never had the grace to look like a fish out of the water, I think indignantly.

Oh My God, Oh My God!!! THOM!!!!

He smirks as he sees the recognition dawn on my face. "So, this is what they taught you as the convent, Sister?"

I jump on him with a shriek that did justifiable credit to whatever teachings the Daughters had taught me, launching myself into his arms with enough force to knock him over. He laughs and spins me around.

(I conveniently 'forget' all about the sweet revenge I had planned for…oh, ever since I stepped into the convent?)

"It's so good to see you again!" His voice had changed; it had become deeper – deep enough to wring the heart of any female.

Except me, of course. (Eww. -Mental cringe-)

"Thom! You look…" I stare at him, at a loss for words. Honestly, if I wasn't his sister, I sure as hell would be falling for him. (Urgh. -Shudders- Bad, bad, mental image.)

But he looked so different! Lean and muscular… Tall…

"Good?" He supplies cheerfully – waaay to cheerfully, tweaking my nose.

-----

He just did – what?! My twin – TWIN, just TWEAKED my nose, like I was a two-year old!

All right, that is a bit much… I stare him in the eye, blatantly ignoring his amused glance, and shooting him a death glare of my own.

Believe me, I've had plenty of practice with those.

"Listen here, brother _dear_, I may have spent 5 years at the convent, but don't think I can't whip you within an inch of your life. One more - "

At that fine moment, a dramatic groaning broke through my tirade.

-----

Wha-???

Do NOT tell me I have lost my mind. Not that _that's_ possible or anything. You know. I mean, I know I'm obviously sane. But I just – aiy, forget it.

"Jon! Are you all right?" Thom went over to someone leaning against the wall – someone who was panting slightly and looking a bit apprehensive.

Someone with soft, dark hair, and blue eyes. (Hmm... Azure blue?) Oh man – he can't _still_ be in pain, can he? I mean, I didn't hit him _that _hard…

All right – maybe I should apologize – I admit, the Shang way is not something to be fooled with. No, I shouldn't. I was justified. HE was the one who came onto me.

"I think so."

I notice his hands are still hovering protectively over that – well, that unfortunate victim of my misjudgement. HA! He's definitely nuts, if he expects a confession from me. Whooo! HAHA. I almost lost it with laughter. I definitely need a new description for him – whatever I do, I can't call him nuts. That reminds me too much of that – ha, that _incident_.

"I didn't know such a lovely Lioness could be so ferocious, my Lady." He looks at me, and grins cheekily, the perfect picture of innocence.

Oh. My. God. He's got one lady-killer of a smile. (My subconscious chooses to pass the fact that HE is smiling at ME, even after I had caused him crucial pain.)

All witty repartees I had planned automatically flies through the window.

Vanished.

What am I supposed to say to that type of comment? Should I be pleased, or insulted? Arghhh – this is the useful stuff they should have taught us at the convent!

All right. You can handle this. Breathe, Alanna. Deep breathes, now. Breathe in – and out. In, and out.

NO!! Getting positively dizzy means you haven't been breathing out…

Again – In, and out…

-----

"Highness, this is my sister – Alanna of Trebond." Thom introduces me, and gives me a wink.

This shakes me out of my reverie. Haha! I can breathe again! Oh, how I can always count on Thom to get me out of tight situations.

Wait. Did he just say – oh. Ohhhh.

"And Sister _dear_ (damn! How dare he put in those same italics I had used on him _against_ me?!), this is the Crown Prince of Tortall – Jonathan of Conte." There is now an open smirk on his face, and I can see that evil glint in his violet eyes.

Uh-oh.

Goddess, have mercy.

-----

At the conspicuous moment, a servant garbed in the red and gold colours of the royal wing appeared around the corridor bend.

"Please, your Highness. His Majesty would like you in his study as soon as possible…"

I swear, those were the sweetest words I've ever heard. In just another moment, Jonathan was going to disappear! Gone! Saved by the – servant! Yes!! I could dance with relief.

Did I just – oh never mind. I'm not even going to ask.

"Just a minute. Tell father I'll be right there."

I freeze.

The Prince turns to me expectantly, a broad grin on his face, his eyes twinkling. Cerulean blue?

"It's a pleasure, I'm sure, Lady Alanna." He gives me his hand.

Did I even remotely feel the tiniest bit of remorse for kicking him?! You've got to be joking. Every second of that was worth it.

I shoot him a famous death glare. The smile widens.

I swear, Hell will freeze over the day that guy doesn't smile.

Damn. What is with these people and turning their lips upwards all the time? Is this some sort of knighthood thing? First Thom, and now THIS twit of a Prince. I hate – absolutely HATE – that killer of a smile. (And of course, my heart is beating erratically _because_ I'm so fed up with that smile – there is NO other reason. I repeat, NONE.)

-----

My brother coughs from his position behind Jonathan. (Pfffff. Brother my derriere. Which true brother would subject their twin sister to such a sadistic situation?!)

Thom. I am going to _kill_ you as soon as I can get my hands on you… You'll _so_ never know what hit you. And Mithros curse whoever invented the stupid Code of Chivalry.

That was just plain cruel.

-----

"Your Royal Highness", I mutter, kissing the hand he presented me. (Twitch, twitch) With the _Prince_ still grinning like the complete scumbag that he really was, I – oh, get ready for this! – I _curtsied_. Yeah, well, I can afford to spare my pride once in awhile, but now is _not_ the time.

What did I ever do to deserve this?!

Wait – what do you _think_ you're doing? NOT charming. NOT gentlemanly – okay, maybe gentlemanly, but NOT WANTED!! LET GO OF MY HAND!!! (Oh… I would be able to do a more thorough job of this outburst if he wasn't the Prince or Tortall, AND if the stupid so-call 'chivalrous' Code didn't specifically demand this.)

"Please, call me Jon." His lips linger on my hand – and I resist the urge to kick him again. It's the body heat that's getting to me – how his lips feel is NO concern to me whatsoever. Puh-lease. And call – him…Jon?! Wha- who?

-----

Uhh… I don't think my breathing is in my control anymore. Ha! Maybe I'll allergic to _him_. Oh wait – he's twice as bad as any allergen. _Three_ time as bad… maybe even four –

He chuckles as I mumble something completely unintelligible. He catches my gaze again, and holds it before turning away.

Damn grin.

----

Uh-oh. That's _definitely_ an unhealthy amount of collective heat pooling in my cheeks. No – it's not because of _him_. Why would it –

-----

I can't be affected by _him_, can I? Nah-uh.

Not possible.

In his wildest dreams.

For one thing, I don't believe in love at first site (Pfff. How cliché). Two, there is _nothing_ about that – that y-chromosome (that's ALL he is) I like. In fact, he had the _nerve_ to COLLIDE into me, and his eyes –

Oh Goddess. Those eyes.

Cobalt blue?

-----

A/N: Another chapter completed. I did warn you this is going to be a rather short, fluffy story, neh? Lolz. Comments or reviews? How about – oh, let's say 15 comments in reward for my looong chapter? Haha. Thank you for reading. :)


	4. c

Thank you, all who reviewed. You HAVE heard me say that you are the ones that keep my glued to my computer chair, racking my brains for ideas, instead of industriously studying for exams, neh?

**Oceanspike** – Haha. I'm glad you like it. :) My intention for this story was humour and simplicity. And btw, you're not stupid – 'lolz' is simply my way of saying –lol- laugh out loud. _That_ I'm sure you understand, right?

**Miamouse** – I'm sorry Alanna's character disappointed you so. But you have to remember – she is not the same Alanna in Song of the Lioness, when she entered the palace at the age of ten. As for age – age is but a number; it has no meaning. [But, to keep records straight, Alanna's first kiss from Jon occurred at the Drell Valley, when she was sixteen. ] And George – my highest compliment for him is that I can tolerate him. :( So no, he won't be appearing in this short ficlet. (However, I DO have a fic with George in it – 'Twist of Fate'. It will be my honour if you visit it.) But I hope you still enjoy this chapter, neh? Thank you for all your support.

**nala** – My thanks for pointing out the confusion. I'll try to state things in clearer terms in the future, eh? I only tried to portray one's thought in writing – and as humans, we _do_ tend to think in tangents, don't you think? Haha. Too be sure, Alanna certainly does NOT exist in a vacuum. Lolz. I'll try to add in more detail, hm? Thanks for your compliments.

**S** – Haha. I'm glad you liked that little scene. I thought it would leave a deep impression for Alanna and Jon's first meeting. Lolz. Thank you for commenting!

**Lady Leah of Chaos** – Well aren't we the evil one? :P You're telling me you don't feel 'Johnny's' pain? Haha. Thanks for dropping by. :D Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Aznchicki** – You are saying you don't believe that Thom's hot? LOLZ. I had always thought him handsome and distinguished. Haha. Of course, Jon looks better, neh?

**ThessalyD** – OMG! That's an awesome idea! Now why didn't I think of that? Haha. To be sure, one does not normally associate the characters from PotS with the convent – but you are indeed right that it would be unique and creative. I should give that some thought, hm?

**e** – I'm glad you thought it was funny, as this was my intent. Hopefully you found this one so too? :)

**Mustang Girl** – Thank you for your compliments. I present you… chapter three!

**Alannawanabe** – A fellow fluff fan? Lolz. And finally, someone agrees with me that Thom may be attractive! Haha. After all, great minds think alike, hm? Lolz. Thank you for your support.

**Kore Yan** - Eyes Kore Yan warily Be careful now, don't choke! I would hate for my story to do that do someone. Perhaps I should post up a warning in my opening chapter 'read at your own risk. Symptoms – wheezing, doubling over, derriere separation'. Haha. Thanks.

**Rubber Duck** – Lolz. The first chapter was purely experimental. Hopefully this story will get better as I improve at writing first person, neh? Thanks for your support. As for the DD link – I visit it often, always silent and lurking.

A/N: Again, I must enforce the fact that this is an experimental ficlet, with no real plot. It will be short – and in accordance with the chapter titles, I think you know how many chapters I have left. As much as I adore your comments, please, please do not tell me 'to expand upon the plot' – I think I have given adequate warning that the plot is not this story's strength. Nevertheless, I hope you will enjoy the writing and humour itself. :)

I present… chapter three.

* * *

It's said that you can't escape your fears.

No hell you can't.

At least, knowing my luck, I sure can't. With the kind of _luck_ – or un-luck – I have, I'll probably run right smack _into_ my fears instead of in the opposite direction. See what I mean when I say my life absolutely _sucks_?

When I say that, it just does not – CAN not – get any worse.

I stare at the dress on my bed that nurse brought in. This brilliant concoction of deep violet silk and wonderful embroidery. It IS pretty, if I do say so myself. It almost – _almost_ – reconciles me to the 'dancing part-ay' I've been forced to attend. ALMOST. Nothing in the world can drag me to willingly attend that – ball.

Argh. And it's entirely _his_ fault that I have to attend. The Crown Prince of Tortall's fault. We're celebrating his 20th birthday. Geez, the way the court makes it sound, we might as well all say 'Yay! Let's celebrate Jonathan Day!' Ha!

To be sure, I haven't seen him ['seen' as in, I haven't made a fool of myself] since that – unfortunate meeting almost three weeks ago, except in the corridors and sometimes at dinner. More than once – and twice – I've caught him staring oddly at me, and I just KNOW he's planning something evil up his sleeve. During those times, I take _exceptional_ care that he does not find a chance to '_accidentally'_ fall into me.

Puh-lease. Accidentally. That was so a plot to embarrass the life out of me.

And it worked. And WHY do HIS plots work oh-so-perfectly for him? Why can't MINE work for a change? Ohhh… life is so unfair.

Anyways, as an 'intimately installed' girl in court (Intimately installed. Yeah right. Three weeks later, and I am _still_ living in the Prince's study!), I've been practically _ordered_ to attend. Gah.

I hate – absolutely despise – court life.

-----

Damn curls! This ONE curl _will_ not stay in place. But oh, it will. I shall personally make it stay if I have to. I will NOT go to His Highness's birthday ball looking nothing less than perfection. I mean, if I HAVE to go, I might as well _look_ good. And plus, knowing my luck, the worst thing that can possibly go wrong will. And believe me, the worst thing can get preeetty darn bad.

I'll need more than looks to bear up against that. [Say – oh, help from a certain trusted _brother_?]

Sitting there in my towel, and dripping wet from my luxurious hot bath, I dab lotion over my body – hey, one's _skin_ must match the hair, non? – And ingeniously devise a plan B.

A _successful_ plan B, for a change.

So here's my new plan. Latch onto Thom like a leech. Refuse to dance with _anyone_, much less _him_. (My expertise at giving lame excuses to reject prospective dance partners is quite overwhelming.) Leave as early as possible, and drag Thom along with me. If anyone asks, Thom's just about to show me around the gardens.

In the meanwhile, I plan to do all in my powers to embarrass that – _Prince_. Ohh… He'll be sorry he ever ran into me that day. I'll make sure of that.

Brilliant? I thought so.

In the spur of the moment, I get up to do a little victory dance. Ha! The game's in the bag for me. Oh, I'm going to have the time of my life tonight…._ HE_ is SO going to get it.

So, I'm waltzing around the study, dancing – dancing? Stumbling, more like – with my bottle of lotion in one hand, and nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped around my body.

Now doesn't that just spell disaster?!

Moments later, I whirl straight INTO the edge of His Highness's desk. Hard. Literally, I just rammed right into the sharp corner of the desk. What the heck does he think he's doing, anyways, keeping a dangerous thing like that right in the middle of the room?

I yelp in pain, and the betraying bottle of a lotion flies out of my slippery, oil-covered fingers. I close my eyes, cringing as I wait for the unavoidable sound of shattering glass.

It never came.

Hmm. Maybe my luck is going to hold out, after all. My eyes open.

Oh freaking hell.

No. This cannot be happening to me.

Who else is standing at the door, besides Jonathan, Crown Prince of Tortall? In his hands, he holds out my bottle of lotion. See what I mean by one hell of a traitor lotion? How could it do this to me? Letting _him_ see me in this humiliation.

The sting of all insults.

"You dropped your – oh. Err… you…" He drops his oh-so-arrogant tone, as he looks me over, his face burning crimson.

"You – how…Wha… In – Jon…ack - " I sputter incoherently, clutching the slipping towel to my all too wet (and not to mention NAKED!!) body.

Seeing my helpless fury, he immediately sets the bottle on the floor, and before I can react, the door has closed, with HIM on the other side.

"ARRGGHHHH!!" I scream, recovering my senses and sprinting towards the door. "JONATHAN!!!!! GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!!!"

The door doesn't budge. I pound furiously on it, but it's still sealed tight. I can't believe it. He's holding the door shut from the OUTSIDE. I'm freaking locked into my own room!!

"JONATHAN!!!! Open the door right NOW!!"

I can hear him chuckle. ARGH! "No way. I saw that killer gleam in your eyes, Lady Alanna." His voice floats under the door, teasing and tantalizing at the same time.

GAHHHHH!!!!

In my anger, I kick at the door with my foot – my little toe connecting solidly with the wooden door. I stumble backwards. "Yeeowch!"

"What is the matter? Is everything all right, Alanna?" The door is flung open, and I meet his concerned gaze mere inches away. (My mind registered vaguely that he called me 'Alanna'.)

My breath catches. All right – the allergen is back.

"Don't you knock?!" I choke out faintly, gesturing my arms wildly in an attempt at intimidation. (It was a complete failure.)

"I did knock. You were just too wrapped up to hear me." He grabs both of my hands, and brings them to his chest. Whether it was to stop me from clobbering him, or, well –

I don't know.

I thought I didn't believe in love at first sight. I didn't believe I could find anyone to _suit_ me at court. I didn't believe the Prince of Tortall could be so – like _this_.

But now, I'm not sure what I believe anymore.

His eyes meet mine, searchingly. Indigo blue? Once more, I…am…drowning. I've always been afraid of sinking, ever since I fell through the ice at the Trebond pond so long ago. But this – this was different.

I can sense the heat rising into my cheeks, can feel – he probably could, too – my body trembling from head to toe. I can feel the towel slipping from my quivering grasp….

Vainly, I grasp at it, but his hands beat me to it, clasping it securely to my shoulders. The movement brings him closer – MUCH too close for comfort. I watch his head tilt towards me – he is smiling. I clutch tightly onto his tunic.

Say no – say no. No, this is a mistake… Say it…

Jonathan, this is a mistake…

I made a mistake…

I made…

With a swift uplift of my chin, our lips meet. My neck snaps backwards with the force of the kiss, but my body leans involuntarily towards him. I can feel my eyes widen, and I cling onto him for support – why, I haven't the faintest clue. Surprise? Disbelief?

Surely not – love?

My Prince – MY?! Did I just call him MY Prince?… TORTALL'S Prince breaks off the kiss.

Tenderly and oh, ever so softly, he brushes that stubborn strand of hair away from my face. My eyelids flutter blissfully to a half-close, shutting out everything but that pair of totally gorgeous eyes.

"Jonathan – what colour are your eyes?" I manage to croak out. (For the love of Gods, I sound like a hag)…

But I just had to know…

"My eyes?" He looks surprised, and answers slowly. "They're blue."

"Blue? The sky is blue, ink is blue… your eyes are… something else…" (He doesn't think I'm _that_ stupid, does he?)

He pauses for a moment. "Sapphire."

Ah. Sapphire blue.

Sapphire.

"I'll see you at the ball tonight."

In the tiny second it took for me to force my eyes open – I almost had to pry them apart with my fingers, he had gone.

-----

Finally! Everything in smooth and running order. The time is almost here. You know. What's truly miraculous? Nothing out of plan has happened yet. In fact – everything, and I mean, EVERY single bloody thing, has gone according to my wishes – including that one, single piece of uncooperative hair.

Supposing – no, I can't – but maybe, is it… is it because of _him – _of Jon? Urgh – that's totally ludicrous. How could MY plans be affected by our – well, by what happened this afternoon? It was a mistake. A mistake.

But…

I rustle into my ball gown, enjoying the cool sensation of silk against skin as it settles around my waist. Nurse – somehow, she doesn't seem nearly as offending as she did on the way here – gently laces up my bodice, turning me towards the mirror when she had finished.

THE Lady Alanna of Trebond stares back at me. Wow. Just – wow. Nothing can be perfect, but I had so closely achieved my aim it was scary. (By perfect, of course I'm referring to 'different from my normal appearance' and 'not hideous' – not the 'drop-dead gorgeous' kind.) Nurse begins to apply some cosmetics to my face, working around my dumbfounded gaze into the mirror.

My dress – bless whoever fashioned it – left shoulders and gathered at the waist, bringing out curves I never thought I had. Even now, I'm thinking it must be a trick of the light. (If it is, it wouldn't be the first time it tried to trick me.) The long, layered, amethyst skirt pooled gently at my feet, each layer ending in a slightly different position, giving the dress personality and life. The hemline was embroidered with such intricacy that I positively shudder to think of how long the dressmaker must have spent on it.

I wonder… what will Prince Jonathan think of this dress on me?

Nurse adds the finishing touch of lip rouge, and steps away from me, smiling – leaving my reflection alone in the mirror. "You look beautiful, Lady."

I remember father's lecture the day before I left Trebond. I remember raging about the injustice of being sent to court even though I was hideously unfeminine. I remember that he told me:

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

Will Jonathan find me beautiful tonight? Will he?

* * *

A/N: Hmm. I actually finished the next chapter before I wrote this one – and I may have rushed this one a bit in anticipation for the ultimate climax. Lolz. Let's say – another 15 comments for the next chapter? :)


	5. h

Firstly, my apologies for this delayed update, despite the many reviews. :) I was - and still am - on vacation, and it is next to impossible finding a computer with internet connection. As this fic draws to a close, my huge thanks goes to all my reviewers and readers. I wouldn't have managed to update so soon without you. 3

SodaPop33: I tried to write something out of the ordinary - and I'm glad you think I achieved the humour and wit to some degree. :) Thank you for your compliments!

aznchicki: Haha. You're over the 15th, actually! See? The standard was all right, neh? Thanks so much for dropping by! Btw, I'm curious about your nick - are you, by any chance, a part of Winglin? :)

pinky: :P Those witty repartees are HARD to come up with! Lolz. It's too bad you're not an AJ fan, though, but I'm glad you enjoyed it nevertheless. Hope you enjoy this chapter, too.

Kore Yan: Oh, but you see, Jonathan took action by leaving BEFORE Alanna could throw her fit. Haha. In truth, I can indeed see her throwing a fit. :P But I thought it would be a bit tiring to have Alanna arguing with herself and with Jon so much in one chapter. :) Lolz. So, does this chapter satisfy your curiousity?

Clair-a-net: Thank you for the compliment. I know this is not soon, but it will have to do, non?

chicken-puffs: Why thank you. :) Enjoy this chapter too, hm?

TPfan333: Well, Alanna has always been target for embarrasment, non? Haha. And you've read the story so carefully - and reviewed every chapter! Hugs

nala: I'm sure people would be much interested and amused if they looked into your thoughts, nala. :) Lolz. I'm glad you thought I improved this chapter - let's see if I can keep it up, hm? Lolz. Exams are over - I studied, I sat through two hours of exams, and now they are over!!!! I just hope I didn't fail everything. Haha. Of course, ideas exposed can change the world, neh?

SailorChibi: Lolz. Thank you - so many flattering words! Blush. Lolz. I tried to manipulate Alanna's mind to keep her personality in the books, but with different ideas from the convent. How successful I was, I don't know. Haha. No - Alanna would never have made a good Queen, but I like to manipulate other, more bittersweet reasons, or other ideas that could have happened, to comfort myself. :P (But none, or little, are of Alanna becoming Queen.) I still think AJ have so much chemistry between them, and was I ever disappointed when I found out they did not become a pair! :) Thank you again, and hope you like this chapter!

S: Aww. Thank you. I kind of want to make this story longer too, but I'm afraid it will get kind of stale. In fact, I can assure you that it WILL get stale after another few chapters - so we'll just keep it short and sweet, neh? Lolz. Of course, Alanna is feminine, whether she admits it or not. Plus, she wants to impress the Prince, even though she doesn't want to admit that either, right? Haha. J/k. Thanks for pointing out what you liked - I smile everytime I read your comment. Thanks!

Timra: Haha. I hope you didn't review just to add a number! Because your review means more than that to me - thank you soo much for the comment. As for her plan - knowing Alanna, how well do you think it will work? Wink

miamouse: Computers can get crazy sometimes, eh? I should know - my laptop hates me. :) Haha. I liked the lotion part as well - it has more interaction and action, don't you think? Hmm - the idea of changing views is a creative one, but I don't think it would work in this case. For one thing, my slow mind can't keep track of so many different personalities and thought in first person. Lolz. And changing views would ruin the flow of the simple plotline, in this case. :) But I'll think about it definitely, for future stories - perhaps I'll do a ' Prince Jonathan meets Alanna of the Convent', next, from Jon's point of view. :)

Gwen of Helmsgrove: Haha. Thank you! Although it was not her personality I tried to change, but rather, her thoughts. You will still notice her quick temper, and failure of success of plans. :P Like I told miamouse, the flow of the story will be ruined with so many POVs, and it will get confusing after awhile - both for me and the readers. But thanks for the suggestion all the same! :)

Rubber Duck: Lolz. Do I? But I see you guys have fulfilled the requirements nicely. Wink Haha. Thank you so much for your compliments of 'original' - it means so much to me. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter too, neh? As for DD - well, I'm part of quite a bit of internet activities, and as much as I indeed want to, I know I wouldn't be able to keep up with its pace. But who knows, perhaps I will, someday. :P

DarkAngelius: Haha. Uh-oh. I'm going to get a lecture for this delay, am I not? Haha. I'm glad you think this story is readable, and hope to you this chapter as well. :)

oceanspike: Ohh. I've never used 'Lolz' for 'Lots of love' before, but I can see how it works. :) Haha. You're so efficient! I should start applying some of them to my chat language. And thank you for being such a devoted supported all throughout my story. I hope this chapter meets the standards? :) Lol - as in 'lots of love'. 3

* * *

I edge slowly into the ballroom. Do NOT trip – do NOT trip. One foot in front of the other now. Slowly – easy does it.

Goddess, I will be utterly exhausted if I have to remind myself all night! Suddenly, this ball idea seems much less survivable as it did earlier today. In fact, I've never wished more devotedly that I were thousands of miles away. A long, long way from here.

Gah! All right. Don't drop the handkerchief now, Alanna. You'll need it to wipe of the sweat soon. Sweat from NERVOUSNESS!! Why is everyone staring at me? I just dropped my hankie, for Goddess Sake's!

Wait – doesn't dropping your handkerchief mean – Oh Lord.

This is going to be one hell of a long night.

-----

I look around; hoping someone – or something – will rescue me from this plight. Hello?! Damsel in distress here! I don't need a knight in shining armour, but an escape hatchet will do just fine!

Thom was nowhere to be found. Aww, no. This is NOT good. He was casted as my whisker from balls! (Not whisker as in sensory organs on a feline – whisker as in 'whisking-me-AWAY-from-here'.)

And there – ahhh. Surrounded by dozens of court females, the object of my scrutiny was laughing like the way he had never laughed around me, and even from HERE, I could tell he was flirting. What was he wearing? A... suit of some royal blue material, finely tailored and looking every inch like it grew on him.

How does ANYONE look that good in a suit?

As I watch, he bows low, and offers his hand to someone. A beautiful, green-eyed, voluptuous someone. I watch as they waltz around the room, having the oh-so-marvellous time of their lives (obviously this woman didn't worry about tripping over her own feet every two seconds). GAH!

That spoiled jerk. Immature twit. Always up for the pretty new faces.

Wait – why would I care about the affairs of what HE'S doing? In fact, he could dance with every single female of court, and I would absolutely NOT care. Not at ALL.   
  
"My Lady, would you care to dance?" Someone's hand comes flourishing in front of my vision, blocking _him_ from my sight.

"I...err..." Roused most untimely from my thoughts, I stare up at a middle-aged man standing right in front of me, and smiling beguilingly in my direction. _What_ just happened?

Wait.

Dance? Did he just say _dance_? Um, unless he wants me to die a tragic and early death – from EMBARASSMENT! – I don't think that's a good idea.

To dance? Not I.

Imagine the Lady Alanna tripping over her own feet while dancing in front of Prince Jonathan and his elegantly gliding partner. Or worse – WITH Jonathan.

My eyes widen as I see him coming for me – or coming in MY direction – out of the corner of my eye.

This is NOT good. Of course, he may be just passing by, but I'd rather NOT take the risk. Talk about _major _social outcast from this day on.

"No! I mean, not now. He can't see me!"

"Who is this that you speak of? Are you all right, Lady?"

If my life – I'm not joking, if I was to trip in front of the entire court, I WILL die the most untimely death – was not at stake, I would be laughing at his concern.

As it is, what am I suppose to say to that? Yes, I'm all right? How can I say that, when I've never been more NOT all right in my life? (And he's coming closer...)

No? What is my excuse? "Sorry Sir, I'm afraid I can't dance with you. It's just that the most dangerous person on Earth coming in this direction, and I MUST get out of here ASAP.'

That's right. I DO need to get out of his line of vision ASAP.

The question is – _how_?

Unfortunately, our gazes meet at this moment, and he lifts his glass of wine in salute, giving me a tiny wink. I've sprouted roots – this Prince was definitely dangerous.

"Lord Cayne, my sister is looking for me."

I spin around, and oh, thank the Goddess, it's Thom!! How could I ever have held a grudge against him before? He flashes me an amused grin, before turning back to the Lord. (I could do _without_ that smirk, honey).

"She meant that if you were to escort her onto the dance floor, I wouldn't be able to find her among all the dancers. And if you will so kindly excuse us, we have important matters to catch up on."

-----

Oh, the saving grace! I adore thee, brother dear! My feet seemed to have sprouted wings, and I flee as fast as I can in the opposite direction, towing Thom with me. Only until I had put as much distance as possible between _him_ and I, did I stop.

"Bad night, sister?" He chuckles infuriatingly.

"Thom, you need to get me out of here! I can't take it anymore!" I pound against his chest, emphasising my point.

"Don't you think it's a bit rude, skipping out on His Highness's birthday? Especially as he is SO intent on having a dance with you?"

I stare at him. Is he trying to get me _killed_? "Are you mad? What are you talking abo - "

"Am I interrupting?"

Ahh.

Jonathan bows gallantly, and winks at me, a twinkle in his eyes. Ohhh... This man is as dangerous as hell... dangerously good...

But I know that twinkle. Haven't I seen it TWICE before when he had made a fool out of me?

BAD. It's bad. This is bad. That twinkle is BAD.

-----

"JON?!" I turn to Thom. He had better have one good explanation if he wishes to live through the night. "THOM?!"

No Thom. NO THOM.

_ He_ laughs lightly. "Glad you can say all our names. It's a small world, eh?"

Yeah right. Small ballroom, more like.

Oh yes.

"And what are you doing here? I mean, it's not like you shouldn't be here of course, as it's your ball. Not to mention you live here. But why – ack, I meant, what are... me – here..."

I can feel my soul wilting already.

He grins (too hugely for my liking), as he watches me sputter incoherently yet again. "You've almost got it, Lady Alanna. I'm here to ask you for a dance."

That smile...

Excuse me? Ice! I need ice! Something to hold my melting insides together would be much appreciated!

"I..."

He offers me his hand, and bestows that appealing grin. I can _feel _myself softening at his gaze. Almost relenting... No – no. You'll never last through the dance. Say no...

Say it...

"No, yes?" He steps closer towards me, slipping his hand under my arm, and taking my hand firmly in his.

"Yes! I mean, no!" I'm getting entirely too confused with these no's and yes's. "NO!"

"Why not?"

"Urgh... I – um...don't dance." Politeness or no politeness, I'm outta here. Nothing can be as bad as standing here trying to argue with the unarguable. Get out of here, before I embarrass myself any further.

Turning to go, I totally forget that my hand is still being held prisoner by his. Before I can register what has happened, he has whirled me directly into his arms.

"You will now, Lady Alanna. And I am sure you will dance beautifully." He voice is soft - tantalizingly soft.

Wait. Was he THREATENING me?! Was that a threat?

I meet his eyes. Oh Gods. Doomsday has arrived. This is going to be bad.

"All I ask, is to have this dance."

Think ice, Alanna... Think ice. Ice.

----

As I step onto the dance floor, I forget all about my dance partner as I place my energy into focusing on not making a fool of myself. One foot in front of the other now...pretend you're doing hand to hand combat... follow his lead...glide... be careful of his foot... don't step there, you idiot!

Why does the floor have to be so damn slippery?!

I quickly readjust my steps as I cling tightly onto him for support. I can feel the heat rise into my face again, and my heart must have been thumping loud enough for the whole ballroom to hear. He changes his hold on my waist to eliminate any chance of slipping or falling on my part. "Not bad... not bad at all," he whispers.

Goddess. He's going to be the end of me... – be careful! "Don't talk to me. I need to concentrate." I warn sharply.

To my utter astonishment, he pulls me in closer to him, settling his arm more securing around my waist. "Don't worry, Alanna. I won't let anything happen to you, if that's what you're worried about."

Damn. He's worse than a drug. Not only is he dangerous, he's CHARMING! Where is that ICE?!

-----

I...can... dance. No really, two dances later, and I still haven't slipped, fallen, and I've only stepped on the Prince's foot once.

In fact, I think I'm beginning to enjoy this.

Boldly, I twirl away from him, only to find myself pirouetted back against his chest. He chuckles lightly. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

I glare at him from my position against the crook of his neck as we waltz across the dance floor. "You do like to rub things in, don't you?"

Then, it happened. As a response to my RETORICAL question, he dips me. DIP! We might as well change the first letter to a 'R'! R.I.P., more like. As much as my dancing has proved successful, THIS was a bit much for one night.

"Jon, don't you dare - "

Too late.

I hang onto him for dear life as I lose my balance. This is NOT good. I can see his eyes widen as I fall backwards. Nope – that's not going to do me the least bit of good either.

I close my own eyes. Any second now, and my derriere was going to collide VERY painfully with the floor. Any second....

R.I.P. Alanna.

And... he catches me. Inches away from death, he spins me around, so instead of crashing into the floor, I hurtle full force straight into him, and we both stumble backwards...

* * *

A/N: How cruel of me. A nice little cliffhanger before the epilogue... I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

And let us say... 15 reviews for the epilogue? Of course, the more comments I receive, the more inspired I will be to update the answer to our cliffhanger. :)


	6. é

A/N: Well! It's been awhile, hasn't it? Lolz. I think I've left this story for almost half a year – shame on me! But my New Year's Resolution is to complete all the stories I have still 'in progress', starting with 'Touché'. :) Hopefully, you have not yet forgotten about this story, neh?

As I'm in the middle of University and scholarship applications, I will not have time to reply to individual comments this time. Thank you everyone, for such support over this story – I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Except for the little hiatus at the end, hm? :P

Now, without further ado, a fun little chapter to end Or rather, BEGIN Alanna's sojourn at court. :)

---

And we both stumble backwards…

My foot – that stupid foot of mine – catches on his, and together, we crash into a whirling couple behind us. My momentum carries me forwards, straight into Jonathan's arms…

His arm keeps a tenacious grip on my waist, pulling me down with him…

On TOP of him…

And my lips – they sway (Yes, THEY sway – I swear, they have a mind of their own…) to land right smack atop his.

I can feel my eyes widen, and can see the surprise reflecting in those sapphire ones. I'm blushing – a VERY distinct crimson. I know I am. I can feel the heat coming off my face. Or perhaps, it's coming from those sizzling lips…

As we fall, a totally new sensation overwhelms me, and I clutch tightly onto his shirt.

Those lips should be illegal.

Jonathan breaks off the – well, for lack of a better word – kiss (although I would say 'kisses' are usually voluntary – and let me tell you, this was NOT voluntary), as we skid to a stop with the poor couple as our safety net. He looks at me. I, on the other hand, just look at his sensuous lips – but a single breath away. Hesitatingly, I bend my head forward. My target? Those burning lips, of course…

And then – yes, there is a THEN. The Goddess loves to see her subjects suffer. All of this was only a small part of her cruel game. Heavens forbid, there is more.

The distinguished couple we had crashed into moves aside, leaving both of us unbalanced. We continue our path of destruction, trying desperately to find a foothold.

Finally, we crash…

Right into someone smoking a cigar.

---

Et le deluge.

I can't believe him. I can't believe what happened.

WHY would someone be smoking a cigar INSIDE the ballroom?! Don't they know how dangerous that is? Don't they?!

I stare up at the row of royalty staring back at me – and only one person's eyes are comforting. Silently, he reassures me. It will be all right. It will be all right.

NO, it is most certainly NOT all right.

I recall what happened this time an hour ago. When we stumbled, crashing into the cigar man, he promptly dropped it in surprise – right on the suit of your truly's dance partner. His tunic burst into flame, followed quickly by his shirt.

I. INDIRECTLY. Set. The. Crown. Prince. On. Fire.

Good thing he learned the elementary fire safety as a page. Drop, and roll. Otherwise, it won't be R.I.P Alanna – it would have been R.I.P. Jonathan AND Alanna.

Silence fills the hall as I stare at him. After a change in clothes, he's got nothing to show for his pains but a slight singe of his hair. A flush stains his cheeks in his anger. I watch as he argues with his parents.

He's arguing for ME. Even after I had almost KILLED him, he's still on my side.

(Of course that's not to say I can't do my _own_ arguing – but what am I supposed to say? 'You must forgive my clumsiness, your Majesties. I really didn't mean to set your son on fire.' Pfff… that just sounds plain stupid.)

The flush on his cheeks, the flash in his eyes – there, because he's defending ME. He believe me – trusts me.

I could cry.

---

Standing on the balcony, I watch as the members of Royalty filter down the corridor. All I could think about was the verdict, and how HE practically saved my life.

Phew. That was close. Too close.

Ungodly close.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him coming towards me – getting closer… and closer…

"Alanna." I can feel him right behind me. After that kiss – or rather, that MISTAKE – my legs seems to have turned to mush around him. Slowly, I pivot on my feet, so I was facing him. More accurately, I was looking at his chest.

"Jonathan – I – "

His widening grin and the narrow distance between us were _not_ making this easier for me. "Err. Thank you - Jon. For – for, erm… you know…"

He closes the distance entirely between us. I can feel the heat emanating from his body. "Yes?"

Oh for Goddess… this was NOT good… NOT healthy…

"For… well, getting me out of that – err, tight spot a few moments."

_Tight spot_? I almost lost my LIFE that day.

By now he's close. So very tangible and _here_.

"It was nothing. I kept my word, when I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Didn't you believe me?"

Just his _voice_ sent tingles down my spine. His gaze is intent, willing my answer to be a 'yes'. I wonder what would happen if we actually touched. Maybe I would ignite right here on the spot.

Nope. I definitely would ignite on the spot.

"…Yes…no…" I have absolutely no idea what I am saying anymore. He had taken my upper arm, and traced the entire contour before finally reaching my hands. His other arm slips around my waist. I feel my knees go weak… very very VERY weak.

His head bends nearer…

Whoa, hoooold up! This is getting too intense for me. Plus, it positively irks me when he simply assumes things for me—sheesh, what a typically male thing to do. Just because he's the Prince…

… and all right, he saved my life mere minutes ago…

Still, _nothing_ gives him the right to simply touch a female like he is now.

I break away from his possessive hold around my waist. "If you touch me like that again, I will personally break EVERY bone in your body. Holding hands is the line…"

Then, feeling weirdly generous, I add, "Maybe an occasional kiss goodnight...on the cheeks only. That's the limit, and don't cross it, _Prince_."

"I don't play by the rules, Lady Alanna." His seductively deep voice causes my heart and stomach to do matching somersaults. "Especially not your rules."

Jonathan tips up my chin with two of his fingers and places a slow, languid kiss on my lips. Yes, those very lips of his that are fast becoming irresistible, if they aren't already. His embrace is gentle, letting me know I can pull away at anytime because he knows that I won't. His kisses don't demand, don't rush, don't ask. They consume, flying me recklessly up to cloud nine and landing me safely in his arms—again.

Again, he pulls away, and I grin stupidly at him. He returns my grin with a winning smile, pulling me back towards him.

"Touché".


End file.
